


Merry & Bright

by witchplease



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchplease/pseuds/witchplease
Summary: Stevie hates Christmas. And no one could change her mind about that. Well, except Twyla.





	Merry & Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [samwhambam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/pseuds/samwhambam) in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> Thank you to the organizers of the Frozen Over fest, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this story. It’s technically based on two prompts, actually, I liked them both so much and eventually couldn’t really unwind the two in my head. 
> 
> The prompt of “Twyla gets lonely on the long cold winter nights at the cafe, when there are no customers and nothing to do. Stevie starts showing up, and keeps her company. All their rambling winter conversations in the dark, drinking wine and falling in love.” was submitted by samwhambam.
> 
> And “Stevie gets a late dinner/snack at the cafe and she’s there until closing. Twyla asks if she wants to help her decorate the cafe for Christmas. There’s some flirting. And some sexual tension.” was an anonymous submission. Thank you both!
> 
> Also, I know that the way that Twyla reads tarot cards on the show is very different than the way I wrote it. I just happen to also read tarot cards and couldn’t misrepresent the craft, which is officially the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever said. On to the story!

**November 13th, 43 days until Christmas.**

Stevie was already in a foul mood when she sat down at the front counter of Cafe Tropical. She should have been off work when it would have been a normal hour to eat dinner. But now it was approaching nine o’clock at night and she was starving. After dealing with a pukey kid and frantic parents in Room Two for the past three hours, Stevie was over it. She groaned and buried her face in her arms.

“You’re here awfully late, Stevie!” Twyla walked up to her, perky as ever, her pony tail bouncing in a way that Stevie could only describe as menacing. “Long night at the motel?”

“Twyla, what do you think about instituting a no-children policy at the motel?” Stevie raised her head and rested her chin on her hand in a loud huff.

Twyla, bless her, seemed to be genuinely considering it. “Well, I think it would make it difficult for families to visit or pass through Schitt’s Creek. The nearest motel would be Elmdale, I suppose, but -”

Stevie waved her hands, rolling her eyes. “I’m not serious, I just have had my fair share of kid vomit tonight, so I’m coping by creating a fantasy world free of all children!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Twyla said, her brow furrowed in concern. “Well, better out than in, my uncle Greg would always say!”

Stevie made a face. “Ew.”

Twyla laughed as if that was the funniest thing she’d heard all day. Stevie ordered her usual, which Twyla informed her was not available because _of course_ it wasn’t. So Twyla went to go put in an order for what was left of the daily special and whatever else Stevie supposed could easily be microwaved. 

Stevie watched Twyla bustle around the cafe. Looking around, Stevie realized she was the last customer there and wondered if Twyla had been about to close before she just waltzed in and sat down demanding to be served. Stevie felt a little twinge of guilt and she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. 

With a loud slam, Twyla dropped a box onto the counter next to Stevie. “Oops, sorry, Stevie! That was loud!” And then she was off again into the kitchen.

Stevie poked at a piece of ribbon sticking out of the box and she saw the words “Christmas” hastily scribbled on the side in black marker. “Is this Christmas decorations?!”

Twyla returned from the back with Stevie’s food. Placing it down in front of her, she smiled, “Yep! Want to help me decorate?”

Stevie’s jaw dropped. “But it’s November! _Early_ November!”

Twyla shrugged. “This is about when we start decorating every year.”

Stevie threw up her hands in exasperation. “We _just_ celebrated Christmas! This is getting ridiculous. All the fake cheer and blinking lights and goodwill towards men bullshit -”

“Ah yes,” Twyla said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Goodwill towards men is the worst.”

Stevie ignored her and Twyla started unpacking the box. “Everyone talks about how wonderful Christmas is, it’s a magical time of the year, yada yada, but it’s so stressful! Everybody’s either complaining about shopping or visiting family or having family visiting them. Christmas is just a reminder of how fucked up my family is and on top of that, it’s the anniversary of all the other years where I learned new and exciting ways that my family is fucked up! Why can’t we all agree that we secretly hate Christmas and just move on from it?” Stevie dropped her hands in her lap, feeling like that whole speech kind of got away from her. 

Twyla was holding a truly ugly Santa figurine in her hands and regarding her with a soft look. Stevie felt a little vulnerable to be the focus of Twyla’s attention like that. She looked away, exhaling a quiet laugh to no one in particular. 

“You know,” Twyla started thoughtfully. “I think what I love most about Christmas is people’s capacity to find the light in the dark. It’s cold and dark and stressful, but we still set aside time to make our lives beautiful with twinkly lights, kissing people under the mistletoe, spending time with those we love.” Stevie caught her gaze finally, steady and kind. “That just gives me hope, I guess.” 

There was an impossibly long silence that followed where Stevie felt like a complete ass. “That’s - that’s really nice, Twyla.” She picked up her fork and busied herself with the mystery meat on her plate, praying that the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Twyla seemed completely unbothered as she began to pull out wreaths and sparkly ribbons and god knows what else from the dusty Christmas box. 

Most of the time, being the sarcastic asshole served Stevie just fine, thank you very much. This was not one of those times. Although, she stood by the fact that Christmas was the absolute worst. Stevie winced slightly, feeling like maybe she shared a bit too much. Twyla didn’t need to hear her life story. 

As she finished her meal, Stevie was starting to feel a bit more human again. She watched as Twyla stood on a small ladder, affixing a wreath above the window to the back kitchen. Stevie wondered what it must be like to have grown up with a messy family and still be full of so much joy and positivity. She wasn’t sure if she was capable of that herself, even if she would want to be. 

Pulling enough money plus a generous tip out of her wallet, she set the bills on the counter next to her plate. Getting up from her seat, she said, “Just a little to the right, Twyla.” 

Twyla turned around at the sound of her voice. It seemed to take her a moment to understand what Stevie was referencing. Twyla adjusted the wreath to the right and then stepped off the ladder to admire her work. She looked over her shoulder and smiled warmly. “Have a good night, Stevie.”

\---

**November 26th, 30 days until Christmas.**

Stevie stomped into the cafe, brushing the snow off her coat and hat. Finding Twyla in a booth wiping down menus, she raised the bottle of wine in her gloved hand as a greeting. 

“Hi, Stevie!” Twyla said brightly. She jumped up from her seat and went behind the counter to get the wine glasses. 

Stevie peeled off her layers carefully, making sure not to drip onto the floor. After giving her boots another kick on the rug, she made her way across the empty restaurant. 

“So, I owe you five bucks,” Twyla said, taking a seat. She reached out to take the bottle of wine from Stevie and began to work on the cork. 

“Oh my god, I _told_ you!” Stevie crowed. “Mrs. Rose must be in a nostalgic mood this week. She has told that story about being George Lucas’ inspiration for Princess Leia’s hair to basically everyone who has come through the motel for the past two days!”

Twyla laughed. “You have to admit, it’s a pretty cool story.” She pushed down on the handle of the corkscrew and the cork released with a satisfying pop. “So, this must be pretty fancy, it has a cork and everything! Did you swipe it from David and Patrick?”

Stevie gasped in protest. “How dare you insinuate!”

Twyla rolled her eyes teasingly as she poured their glasses. “I wasn’t insinuating, I was accusing.”

“I mean… I did, obviously,” Stevie admitted, grimacing even though she didn’t feel the least bit guilty. “Besides, David watched me take it. He’ll just put it on my tab.” 

Twyla looked at her fondly as they clinked glasses. She took a small sip, set her glass down, and titled her head a little. “You look good today, Stevie.”

Stevie shook her head, feeling self-conscious. “I just trekked over here from the motel in the first proper snowfall of the year, so I’m feeling _great_.” She took a deep drink of her wine. Sometime Twyla’s sincerity was a lot to handle. 

Thankfully, George chose that exact moment to step outside the kitchen and inform Twyla that he was heading out. “Good night, George!” Twyla said. She stood up with a small groan. “I should close out the till.” She walked behind the counter and opened the drawer with a ding. 

Stevie swiveled in her seat to rest her elbows on the counter. She watched as Twyla stood there, counting money with her mouth twisted in concentration and her hip popped out to one side. If Stevie thought about it, it was a funny little routine she had fallen into with Twyla. And she tried not to think about it. Because when she thought about it, she would get this little flutter in her stomach that life experience has taught her only led to disappointment. 

And it was silly anyway. She’s known Twyla since they were kids, but they have never really been close. She spent more time with her during the couple of months they were in Cabaret together than she ever had.

Something changed over the past few weeks, though. Her friendship with David is still her only frame of reference for how this kind of thing works, and that certainly had an unconventional origin story. But Stevie supposed this is what a friendship was like? An exciting connection that you want to explore, tease, and cultivate. So Stevie and Twyla had gotten into the habit of these late night talks at the cafe. It was colder, darker, and business felt slower both at the cafe and the motel. It was just nice to end the day together. 

It didn’t always feel like a friendship, though. It felt like… well, for the time being, Stevie just observed that excitable flutter from a distance. Like, a ten-foot pole kind of distance. 

“So, David and Patrick are finally taking a vacation,” Stevie said, desperate for some small talk after a long companionable silence had fallen between the two of them.

“Oh, good for them!” Twyla replied excitedly. “Where are they going?”

“They’re not sure yet, it’ll probably be a smaller road trip after Christmas since they’re still saving for their honeymoon.” Stevie refilled her glass and topped off Twyla’s, too. “They’ve asked me to run the store while they’re gone.”

Twyla smiled at Stevie. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Oh, they’ve just asked. I haven’t given them an answer yet,” Stevie said dryly. “I’m still deciding if it will be worth the trouble. It’ll probably be fine, I don’t really care.”

Twyla snorted a little under her breath. When Stevie raised her eyebrows at her, Twyla laughed, “Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to pretend to agree with you?”

“On what?” Stevie asked.

“That you don’t care that they asked you to help run the store,” Twyla teased. “I can’t think of anything farther from the truth.”

How did Twyla always do this? Stevie felt stupid around her sometimes. The teasing, sarcastic banter that was at the foundation of her friendship with David wasn’t the same with Twyla. Although, to Stevie’s pleasant surprise, Twyla’s humor was drier than she ever realized. But she also had this ability to just get at the heart of the matter in a way that made Stevie feel foolish. If Stevie was honest, sometimes it was also nice, too. It was kind of like Twyla could see her in a way that no one else could. 

Stevie didn’t know what to say, so she just shrugged sheepishly and kept drinking more wine. 

“So, four more days!” Twyla said, a teasing note in her voice. 

“Until what?” Stevie asked, “Of what?”

“Until December!” Twyla exclaimed. “You said you weren’t going to decorate the motel until December.”

Stevie laughed, remembering another particularly strong stance she took last week on Christmas decorations. She honestly didn’t care all that much anymore, but it had been fun to get a rise out of Twyla. “Ah yes,” she said, nodding seriously. “I guess that means I’m going to have to decorate.” 

“You said you would!” Twyla gasped. Her smile was so playful, her eyes practically twinkling with glee. _Twinkling with glee? What the fuck is wrong me_, thought Stevie. But she knew she wanted to keep that smile on Twyla’s face. She wanted to play this game with her. 

“I guess I’ll head up in the attic and pull down all the Ghosts of Christmas Past,” Stevie made a big deal of rolling her eyes and reaching for the wine bottle. 

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad!” Twyla closed the drawer of the cash register and zipped up the bank envelope. She disappeared into the back for a few moments and Stevie took a moment to let that fluttery feeling rise up in her chest a bit. It was feeling more excited than nervous at the moment. 

Twyla walked back in with a dust broom and began running it over the floor. “Look, I’ve had my fair share of terrible Christmases. But the years that were good - it just meant that they that much more special.”

Stevie turns around in her chair to face Twyla. The rhythm of their conversation seemed to be turning into something more real and tender and Stevie was really hoping to avoid that. 

“There isn’t one small Christmas memory that you loved?” Twyla asked sincerely. She was always sincere, even when she was teasing Stevie. “One brief moment that reminded you what the season is all about? Something simple and sweet that you remember?”

“Well,” Stevie mumbled. Why was this physically painful? “The Roses Christmas party last year wasn’t too terrible.” Oh, god, was she going to say it? “I liked it when you sang.” 

Twyla looked up at Stevie, resting one hand on top of the broom and the other on her hip. “Oh, the Jazzagals?”

Right, the Jazzagals. “Yeah.” 

Twyla looked pleased at this. “That was a really special night. I can’t wait to see what the Roses do this year.”

Stevie’s face was feeling uncomfortably warm. The flutter in her stomach was getting out of control. She maybe drank too much wine too quickly. “I should go,” she said more abruptly than she meant to.

Twyla looked up, uncertainty on her face. “Oh, okay.”

Stevie walked over to the coat rack, feeling unsure of how her legs were propelling her in that direction. She didn’t want to leave. “Maybe I can convince Mr. Rose that we won’t need to decorate for Christmas until Christmas Eve, like last year -”

Twyla let out an exasperated laugh. “Alright, Scrooge McDuck!” 

Stevie bit back a smirk. “Um, don’t you mean just Scrooge?” 

“No. No, I mean Scrooge McDuck. You’re definitely a duck.” Twyla nodded seriously. 

“I think I’m more of a Grinch, actually, because -” 

“Get out, Scrooge McDuck! Get out of my cafe!” Twyla couldn’t even pretend anymore, a smile spread across her face as she pointed at the door. 

Stevie rolled her eyes again for good measure and started the long process of putting all her warm layers back on. Once she wrapped her scarf around herself, she paused. She turned back over to Twyla, spun back around on her heel to leave, then stopped again. 

“Did you forget something?” Twyla asked from across the room. 

Stevie winced and turned once more to face Twyla. “Um. I guess I was wondering - maybe, I could walk you home?” 

Twyla looked surprised and completely delighted. Her cheeks flushed slightly and she pressed her lips together to contain her smile. “Just give me a few minutes to close up.”

\--- 

**December 4th, 22 days until Christmas.**

David had been talking non-stop about an issue with a vendor and Stevie wasn’t really listening. Patrick was patiently attentive, of course, even though Stevie was sure he’d heard this story several times by this point. Stevie was feeling a little distracted, though. She didn’t really want to be at the cafe for breakfast, but David had insisted and she didn’t have any food at her place. So here she was. 

But she was feeling nervous and unsettled. She’d had this dream. She wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. And she knew if she started off with “So, I had this dream about Twyla last night…” David would never let her live it down. But it wasn’t _that_ kind of dream. That’s what made it hard to explain. It was just a dream of her and Twyla, sitting in the cafe and drinking wine. Just like they’ve done a dozen times now. But something was different in the dream. There was this closeness, this intimacy, that was between them. Somehow, Stevie knew they were more than friends. The way she felt comfortable in Twyla’s gaze, the easy conversation that flowed between them. In that dream state, she knew Twyla deeply and that sense of trust and fulfillment turned into a painful longing as Stevie woke. That ache in her ribcage hadn’t gone away, it was still with her while she sat at the booth with David and Patrick. And she wasn’t quite sure what she would do if she saw Twyla. 

“And I told her _again_ that we just couldn’t budge on the price, and oh god, was she mad - oh, wait, here comes Twyla,” David interrupted himself. He glanced at Patrick with a soft nudge to his elbow. “Watch this.”

“Watch what?” Stevie asked. Patrick was suddenly very interested in the ceiling and David just arched an eyebrow, a wicked look on his face. 

“Hi, Stevie!” Twyla said brightly as she approached the table, pulling her notepad out of her apron pocket. 

Stevie felt like she might throw up. Her heart and stomach leapt at the same time, but somehow in opposite directions? “Hi, Twyla.” Oh god, did she forget how to greet humans, why did she say it all weird like that?!

David looked so smug and Stevie had a bad feeling about it. After a long terribly awkward pause, he leaned over the table and made an effort to wave dramatically at Twyla. “Good morning, Twyla!”

Twyla turned slightly from Stevie, jumping a little. “Oh, hi, David! Hi, Patrick, how are you both doing this morning?”

Patrick had a terrible poker face and just burst out into a wide grin. “Oh, just fine. How are you doing?”

Twyla considered this question thoughtfully. “You know, I’m dragging a little this morning to be honest.” Stevie thought she seemed her usual energetic self. “But it’s so good to see you all, so I’m feeling better already!” Stevie groaned inwardly. Twyla was so obnoxious and lovely. 

David narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, us _all_.”

As they ordered their breakfast, Stevie avoided eye contact with David even though she could feel him staring. Her cheeks were turning red and she wanted to run away. When Twyla left, Patrick let out a long whistle and stretched his hands out on the table. “Wow. You weren’t kidding, David.”

“See?! I told you!” David exclaimed in a hushed voice, hitting Patrick’s arm.

Stevie had a bad feeling about this. She glared at David who was hiding a shit-eating grin the best he could (and he wasn’t very successful). 

In contrast, Patrick was smiling fondly at Stevie, but continued his vague conversation with David. “I admit, I did not believe you.”

“Well, it is kind of unbelievable.” David replied while looking Stevie dead in the eye. Now both of their gazes were focused on her and she was _thisclose_ to just getting up and leaving. 

Stevie sighed and closed her eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. What the fuck are you talking about?”

David and Patrick just laughed. “Seriously?” David asked incredulously. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “What on earth is going on between you and Twyla?”

Stevie’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?! Nothing!”

They both looked unconvinced. David rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, give me a break. I am not that dumb. There is this - ” He started waving his hands dramatically as he gathered his words. “ - energy in the air between you two! Since when did you have _chemistry_ with Twyla?”

Stevie glared as threateningly as she could. “We don’t have chemistry! We’ve just become closer friends over the past few weeks, that’s all.”

Patrick nodded. “Ah, yes, and David and I were just business partners when we opened the store together.” David hummed in agreement in a condescending tone that Stevie did not appreciate, shimmying his shoulders in satisfaction. 

Stevie sat back in her seat, shaking her head. Fuck. _Of course_, she had a crush on Twyla. How else was she supposed to describe this completely unreasonable behavior? But she couldn’t just… come out and say it like that? She was just getting confused since they were becoming closer friends. This happens all the time with women, there’s that period of time where it’s hard to tell if you’re friends or something more. What’s the big deal?

It occurred to Stevie that she could explain it just like that. David and Patrick would get it, right? They’d been through the same thing. While she considered this, she just continued to ignore their eager stares. On the wall next to the table, a piece of garland had fallen down. Needing to do something with her hands, she reached over and started to reattach it to the hook on the wall.

“Stevie Roberta Budd, are you sabotaging my Christmas decorations?” Twyla had returned with their breakfast. 

“Roberta?!” David exclaimed. Patrick choked on his tea. 

Twyla laughed. “Stevie won’t tell me what her middle name is, so I have to just keep guessing.”

Stevie didn’t think it was possible for David’s eyebrows to raise any higher.

“I’m - I’m just,” Stevie sputtered. “The garland had fallen - I was trying to -”

Twyla set down the plates in front of them and gave Stevie a teasing, quizzical look. “A likely story, you’ve had it out for my Christmas decorations since day one!”

“Day one, Stevie,” David repeated, exhaling loudly. He was just loving this. 

“No, I was fixing -” Stevie said weakly as Twyla left to greet new customers who had just walked in. David and Patrick both dissolved into giggles and Stevie groaned, holding her head in her hands. 

Stevie sighed. “What do I do?”

David and Patrick both looked at each other in surprise. Stevie hoped they realized this was as close to an admission as they were going to get. David seemed to understand, because his expression softened slightly. “Well, what do you want to do?”

_Make out with her face._ “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Patrick said. “You don’t have to know.” The fondness in his voice made Stevie want to punch him in the neck.

“Admitting it to yourself is the first step,” David said, not quite able to contain his laughter and Patrick shot him a look. 

“Feelings are the worst,” Stevie mumbled, burying herself in her eggs and hashbrowns, the fork clanging loudly against the ceramic plate. 

David nodded sagely. “Yes, they are. I’m sorry.”

They sat in a forgiving silence for a few minutes as they worked on their breakfast. David nudged Stevie’s shoe under the table. “I like this for you.” 

Stevie shot her head up, remembering the last time she said this to David. She looked over at Patrick who seemed unaware of the reference. Stevie rolled her eyes. 

Twyla rushed back over the table suddenly. “Stevie,” she said seriously. “I just wanted to make sure - I didn’t, you know, actually think that you were sabotaging the Christmas decorations. I’m sorry - I don’t, I’m not upset at you.” She caught her breath for a moment. “I was teasing.”

Stevie felt herself melt a little. “Oh, Twyla, it’s okay, I knew you were teasing.”

Twyla sighed with relief. “Good. Oh, I got worried for a minute there.”

Stevie could tell her face was beet red, and she could feel David and Patrick staring at her. “N-no, you’re fine!”

Twyla reached out to touch her arm, grasping it firmly, then she was off again. Stevie slowly turned back to David and Patrick. David was staring open-mouthed and Patrick was beaming. “Shut up,” Stevie said firmly, pointing a finger accusingly at them. “Don’t say a word.”

\---

**December 15th, 11 days until Christmas.**

“So, you’re going to tell me my future?”

“Oh no,” Twyla said with a laugh. She set her deck of cards down on the table in front of Stevie. “Here, you start shuffling.”

Stevie carefully inspected the cards, holding them delicately. They were soft and worn around the edges. The backs of the cards were a deep purple with small gilded stars and moons. Twyla returned with the bottle of wine they were working on and her half empty glass. Stevie began to shuffle the cards between her hands. “But I thought that’s what tarot was. Fortune telling.”

Twyla had been dropping hints that she wanted to read Stevie’s cards for the past week. Stevie had a feeling that Twyla knew she was getting nowhere, so she cleverly decided to mention it in front of David the other day. They ganged up on her, really. This was coercion, Stevie insisted, but her protests went unheard. So here she was, about to be told her future by the woman that she couldn’t make direct eye contact with for fear of spilling her guts. David and Patrick both told her she was being stupid, that she should just go for it. Stevie didn’t know what to do next. She felt like she was waiting for something. 

Twyla slid into the booth next to Stevie and a small thrill went up her spine. She had expected Twyla to sit across from her, but here she was right next to her, smelling like jasmine and lemon cleaner. 

“Well, some people who read tarot claim to see the future. I don’t really know how to do that,” Twyla said with a laugh. “For me, tarot is a way to get perspective on my life and just check in to see what the universe has to say to me.”

Stevie continued to shuffle the cards. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to hear what the universe had to say about her. Or if she believed these paper cards even had any wisdom to share. Twyla reached out and took the cards, her hands brushing alongside Stevie’s. Her hands were soft and warm and delicate and Stevie definitely wanted to keep touching them. All too quickly, Twyla pulled back to spread out the cards on the table in front of them. 

“So, since this is your first tarot reading, we’re just going to do a simple three card spread. Past, present, and future.” Twyla gazed steadily at Stevie. “Pick a card.”

Stevie looked at the worn, purple cards in front of her. She really wasn’t sure how to do this. “Any card?” Twyla nodded so Stevie just reached out and grabbed a card from the middle. She handed it to Twyla, who turned it around and set it on the table in front of Stevie. 

The artwork on it had a woman with long black hair, bound and blindfolded. She was surrounded by a number of tall swords sticking out of the ground. The small text at the bottom said it was the Eight of Swords. “Uh oh, that doesn’t look good,” Stevie remarked, laughing nervously. 

Twyla smiled warmly at Stevie. “Well, this card represents your past. So it’s something that you’ve overcome, or something that you learned. The Eight of Swords is about the restrictions you place on yourself. Maybe through negative thoughts or beliefs that weren’t serving you well. Eights represent evolution, so this card says that you went through a process where you had to learn how to stop being your own worst enemy.” 

Stevie thought about her last couple of years. The way she felt after things with Emir ended. She felt unwanted and helpless for a long time. Trapped. 

Twyla continued. “So, it’s not to say that your suffering wasn’t real, but you had to go through a process of realizing what you had control over and what you didn’t. See the rope tied around her? See, it’s actually really loosely wrapped. She could get out of this anytime. So really she’s the only one who is keeping herself trapped.”

Stevie let out a breath. How was this card so spot on? 

“What do you think, Stevie?” Twyla asked. 

Stevie just nodded. Twyla reached out and touched the card. “So, the good thing about this card being in the past is that you learned from this. You learned how to take off that blindfold and free yourself.” 

There was a long pause between them before Twyla softly asked, “Do you want to pick the next card?”

Stevie laughed under her breath. “Okay, here goes nothing.” She drew the second card. The Star. The card portrayed another woman with long, flowing hair that was swept up in waves that surrounded her naked body. Stars were scattered across her chest and thighs, spilling out into her hair. 

“This card is you, right now,” Twyla said. “In the present.”

Stevie snorted. “Right.”

Twyla smiled slightly and continued on. Stevie could feel her eyes on her, but just kept staring at the card. “The Star is about finding who you are after you were forced to rethink everything.” 

Stevie look at Twyla and started laughing. She couldn’t help it. “Are you making this up?”

Twyla held up her hands. “No, this is just what the card means, I swear!”

Leaning back in her chair to roll her head back, she ran a palm over her face. Her shoulders shook with laughter. Okay, so this was weird. Stevie kept thinking of ways that Twyla could have fabricated this, knowing her situation and trying to psych her out with spooky, magical cards. This is what magicians did, right? Learn stuff about you and then pretend it’s magic?

Twyla shifted in her seat, tucking her leg underneath her. Her knee brushed against Stevie’s thigh and Stevie secretly hoped she would keep it there. Twyla reached out and touched Stevie’s arm as she laughed. “This is just how tarot works! It has a funny little way of knowing who you are.”

Stevie looked down at Twyla’s hand on her arm. For a moment they stood still, suspended in time, before Twyla quickly withdrew her hand. Clearing her throat, Twyla continued. “So, The Star card comes right after The Tower, which is about being forced to rethink yourself or the world around you. It’s usually a messy and difficult process, but you come out the other side learning really important lessons. And The Star is all about hope and beauty and being proud of who you are and how hard you’ve worked to be here today.”

“And this is me, right now?” Stevie asked, looking at Twyla, trying and failing to hide the earnestness in her voice. 

Twyla smiled. “Yes. Isn’t that nice?”

Again, Stevie didn’t quite know how to respond. She just nodded again, feeling slightly overcome with emotion. Finally, after a long pause, she said, “I’m not sure I always feel hope and beauty. Or pride.”

Twyla looked for a moment like she was going to reach out and touch Stevie again, her arm jolting slightly. But she didn’t. Her face was full of compassion and kindness and Stevie felt that instinct to pull back, make a joke, say something mean. “That’s okay. You don’t always have to feel that way. Sometimes it can just be a reminder of what is possible for you. Of what what you’re capable of.”

She couldn’t look away from Twyla. That longing she was feeling around Twyla was so heavy in her chest. Finally, she dropped her gaze back at the card. “And the future?”

Twyla smiled and arched an eyebrow. Stevie reached forward to pull the last card. The Two of Cups. The card showed two women in a passionate embrace, their arms tight around the other with small stars swirling around them. They were surrounded by waves, similar to the woman in the Star, the water sweeping them away together. 

“Oh,” Twyla said softly, her breath hitching slightly. Stevie was afraid to look at her, but she couldn’t help herself. Twyla was blushing and kept her eyes on the cards in front of them. Feeling sure Twyla was avoiding her gaze, she felt comfortable soaking in this sight. “So, the Two of Cups represents… well, love. New and passionate love.”

_Oh._

Stevie felt a flush creep up her neck. Her face felt hot and couldn’t look away from the card. Twyla sat forward in her seat and Stevie immediately missed the warmth of her leg against hers. _Twyla was blushing_ just kept repeating over and over in her mind. _Twyla was blushing, Twyla was blushing._ They sat together in a tense silence. 

“Well,” Stevie said, her voice low and a little shakier than she would like. “At least I’ve got something to look forward to.”

\---

**December 23rd, 3 days until Christmas.**

“Stevie,” Twyla rushed down the steps of the cafe, her coat hanging off her shoulder and her fuzzy hat shoved haphazardly on her head. “You forgot your phone!”

Stevie spun around, almost slipping on the sidewalk which was slick with the freshly fallen snow. She carefully walked back, meeting Twyla at the front of the patio. Snow was still falling gently and Stevie loved how still and quiet the town felt right now. Although, it made the rattled thoughts inside her mind practically deafening. She shook her head slightly, to try and balance things out.

She almost did it. She almost told Twyla how she felt. But George had to walk in when he did and Stevie panicked. A sense of overwhelming dread just washed over her. She hated this about herself. Her bravado never failed her when the stakes were low, but here she had a chance at something real. And she fled. 

Twyla looked flushed and just so beautiful, standing out in the snow with her arm outstretched. Stevie felt so stupid. She reached out and took her phone from Twyla and tucked it away in her pocket. “Um, thanks.”

“No problem,” Twyla said breathlessly, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. 

They both stood there in the heavy silence. Stevie couldn’t help but think that Twyla looked like she was waiting for something and wondered if she had the same expression on her face. What were they waiting for?

“So, am I going to see you on Christmas Eve?” Twyla asked hesitantly. “At the Roses’ party?”

Stevie smirked and rolled her eyes. “I guess I can make an appearance.”

Twyla cleared her throat a little before continuing, just a little more softly, “I’d really like to see you there.”

Stevie didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Twyla’s coat was unbuttoned, hanging off her shoulder, apparently thrown on carelessly as she rushed out the door after Stevie. Stevie found herself reaching out, slowly, which only made the trembling more obvious. Her fingers wrapped around the lapel, tugging it over Twyla’s shoulder. Twyla shivered, her mouth opening slightly as if she was about to say something. Instead, Stevie said, somewhat stupidly, “It’s snowing.”

Carefully, Stevie began to button Twyla’s coat, starting at the top near her neck which was uncovered and exposed to the elements. Stevie thought about kissing her in the little dip of her collarbone.

As Stevie continued to button her coat, Twyla’s hands jumped out suddenly, grasping Stevie’s elbows. “Stevie,” Twyla said, her voice soft and a little hoarse. 

Stevie leaned over slightly to get the last button of Twyla’s coat. Her heart was pounding in her throat and as she raised her head, she stepped forward and pressed her lips to Twyla’s mouth. The soft, surprised sound that escaped from the back of Twyla’s throat sent shockwaves through Stevie and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. Twyla’s hands wove around Stevie’s waist, pulling her in close.

Twyla’s hat, already precariously placed on her auburn hair, fell off her head. Stevie pulled back and reached over Twyla to try and grab it. “Forget it,” Twyla laughed, her voice bubbly and joyful, and wrenched Stevie back up to press against her mouth again. 

“But -” Stevie said between urgent kisses. “It’s snowing.” 

\---

**December 24th, Christmas Eve.**

It wasn’t fair, Stevie thought. She hates Christmas. She’s a stone cold bitch who does what she wants. She doesn’t cry at Christmas Eve parties. Two years in a row. 

But there was wine. And twinkly lights. With her friends who are practically family. And a beautiful girl who was singing in her choir and who couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. 

After the Jazzagals finished their second encore of the evening, Twyla made her way across the motel room to Stevie who had a glass of champagne ready for her. They clinked glasses and found themselves smiling at one another for an awkwardly long time, but neither of them seemed able to care. 

“So, this isn’t too bad, is it?” Twyla said, smirking behind her glass. 

Stevie twisted her lips to the side, not wanting to give Twyla the satisfaction but knowing that she already had. “It’s okay, I guess,” she said, shrugging.

Twyla rolled her eyes, although unable to hide her playful smile. “Too many Christmas lights? Too much cheer?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty corny or whatever.” Stevie reached out and pulled Twyla close, her hand pressing softly to the curve of her back. She loved being able to do that, to just reach out and pull her near.

“Well, you’re going to hate this,” Twyla said, putting her glass on the counter top behind Stevie. She pointedly looked above Stevie’s head and Stevie leaned back following her gaze. 

Mistletoe. 

“Oh, brother,” Stevie muttered as Twyla placed her hands on either side of her face and kissed her firmly. Christmas was the _worst_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at gaytwylasands.tumblr.com and I'll read your tarot cards! <3


End file.
